Christmas Eve
by VexieChan
Summary: One dark, snowy Christmas Eve, one man, okay, one lycanthrope sits alone in a nearly empty bar and thinks about the past, future, and life itself. It’s not until he meets a mysterious old man that he really receives a Merry Christmas Post OotP.


Christmas Eve

The Esteemed Lady Quotes

Summary: One dark, snowy Christmas Eve, one man, okay, one lycanthrope sits alone in a nearly empty bar and thinks about the past, the future, and life in general. It's not until he meets a mysterious old man that he really receives a Merry Christmas Post OotP.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything 'cos if I did...let's just say you'd definitely know. I also don't own the poem I'm using. Or the bartender. I stole him from Lord Of The Ring. Hehe.

AN: I'm obsessed with Trans-Siberian Orchestra. I know. But you know, I love it, so get over it. Oh, two words for you NOT SLASH!!!!!! It may seem like it, but it is not, in any way, shape, or form. Ta, and Merry Christmas to all. :-)

p.s. ignore the ending. I had to throw the end part of the poem on, but I chopped it up, so blargh. i hate the end poem thingy.

**_Christmas Eve_**

_In an old city bar_

_That is never too far_

_From the places that gather_

_The dreams that have been_

_In the safety of night_

_With it's old neon light_

_It beckons to strangers_

_And they always come in_

_And the snow it was falling_

_The neon was calling_

_The music was low_

_And the night_

_Christmas Eve_

_And here was the danger_

_That even with strangers_

_Inside of this night_

_It was easier to believe_

_Then the door opened wide_

_And a child came inside_

_That no one in the bar_

_Had seen there before_

_And he asked did we know_

_That outside in the snow_

_That someone was lost _

_Standing outside our door_

_Then the bartender gazed_

_Through the smoke and the haze_

_Through the window and ice_

_To a corner street light_

_Where standing alone_

_By a broken pay phone_

_Was a girl the child said_

_Could no longer get home_

_And the snow, it was falling_

_The neon was calling_

_The bartender turned _

_And said, Not that I care_

_But how would you know this_

_The child said I've noticed _

_If one could be home_

_They'd be already there._

Trans-Siberian Orchestra, In An Old City Bar

I walked down the snowy streets of Hogsmeade. It was cold and dark, rather gloomy. The night was, anyway. The street itself was lit with Christmas lights and decorations. People shoved past me as I made my way through them and slipped into the Three Broomsticks. They chattered anxiously as they ran, hurrying to find that last gift, or the forgotten part of the feast for the following day. As they made their mad dash for the last I-Can't-Believe-It's-Chocolate Rose Bouquet, they muttered "Merry Christmas" to me, but no one really saw me. It didn't bother me. I was used to being the shadow. I always have been, and I probably always will be.

Even in school I was the shadow, the quiet one. Sirius was the handsome, debonair one, James was the charming, funny one, Peter was the faithful one, and I was the shadow, following them around with his head in a book. We had fun, true, and it wasn't like anyone ignored me. Who could, with friends like mine? But when people said they were looking for "James-Sirius-Remus-and-Peter," they really meant Sirius or James. Peter used to be annoyed with it, wanting a little attention of his own. It never once bothered me. Truthfully, I didn't want any more attention drawn to me than was neccessary. I was afraid someone would find out what I really was. Especially after the other Marauders figured it out.

Actually, it was Sirius who did it. I came back after a transformation one morning to find Sirius standing in the doorway. He grinned and flipped his un-mussable hair. Then he asked me how my night had been. I had merely looked at him questioningly, and then he laughed and tossed me James' Invisibility Cloak, saying that he followed me, and he knew, and why didn't I tell them? From that day forward, I did not hate those three nights a month when I turned. I probably would have never survived my years at Hogwarts if it weren't for Siri–

I had to stop my thought right there. Any thoughts about him were still unbearable. Because for an incredibly long time we _were_ "James-Sirius-Remus-and-Peter." Then Peter began to go have his own life, apparently with Voldemort. And James married Lily, so she sort of took Peter's place as James' number-one fan. And that was all right too. But then James and Lily were murdered. That was hard. For a short time it was just me and Sirius until Sirius caught up with Peter. Then it was only me. I was just Remus, and that's it. No Friday nights at Sirius' flat, or Sunday dinners with Lily and James. No hanging out in the Leaky Cauldron or the Three Broomsticks. It was just me.

When I found out Sirius was innocent of Peter's murder and was out of Azkaban, I was elated. I finally had my friend back. It wasn't the same. It would never be the same. But it was better, even if Peter was a traitor and on Voldemort's side. I had a friend again. We became close again, knowing that we were the last two left, and we couldn't let anything change that. We couldn't just let the Marauders die. And with Harry there, it was almost like we had James again, albeit a much more serious and humble James. It was good. Things were a little brighter in such dark times.

I should have known it wouldn't last. We were informed that Harry was not James (we knew this, we were merely reminiscing, of course) and that he was not to take his place. And then it happened. Sirius fell into the Veil. No one knows exactly what was behind that veil, but whatever it was, we knew he couldn't possibly survive it. Sirius was gone forever this time. And once again, it was just me. Harry became rather withdrawn. He wouldn't let anyone in. Everyone was a little darker after that day. Even Severus Snape seemed a little more grave (if it were possible) about the whole situation, and he hated Sirius with a passion for some past sin. All right, many past sins, most of which I had a part in, or at least observed.

I was all alone. Again. I started out alone, and it would be how I ended. Sure, I was useful enough. I had books and cleverness, of course. I was always interested in anything to do with mystical creatures, being one myself. But I really wasn't battle-ready. I preferred being the one to figure out how to defeat the bad guy, I didn't want to actually be the one to do any of the fighting. Once everything broke out, I doubted I'd make it. The only thing that could help was if the climax of the war happened to be on the night of a full moon. I had a fifty-fifty chance that whoever I tore into would be evil. It was a rather bittersweet chance, but if my own side didn't have to kill me, I had a better chance of surviving than usual.

"Hey, mate, you know you still have to pay for that even if you don't drink it." Old Barliaman Butterbur said. Rosemerta had the day off and Butterbur had to take over everything. I jumped, not expecting anyone to notice me, let alone talk to me.

"I know." I replied, looking down at the drink I held in my hands. Butterbur shrugged and went back to whatever it was that he was doing.

"You know," the old man sitting beside me said in a deep, warm voice, "that stuff is terrible. I'll tell you what, if you give an old man some conversation, I'd be willing to pay for that slop and give you something good." It was an interesting proposition. I looked at the old man. He looked rather youthful, but his bright blue eyes were full of age and wisdom. In a way, he reminded me of Albus Dumbledore.

"All right." I finally agreed.

"Bartend!" the man called. Butterbur turned around to look at him. "Take this stuff away and give me two empty glasses."

"Are you going to pay for the usage of my glasses?" Butterbur asked suspiciously.

"Of course." The man replied. "Anything you ask." He shoved some Galleons at the bartender, who readily produced two glasses. The man pulled a flask from his cloak and poured a silvery-clear liquid into my glass, then into his. I stared at it, remembering a phrase an auror friend of mine liked to use quite often; CONSTANT, VIGILANCE!

"What's this?" I asked. The man smiled, raising his own glass to his lips and taking a sip.

"Elquestria." he said admiringly. "Have you ever been to the Last City of the Elves? No, I doubt you have. It's very well hidden. This is an elven wine. It's very rare, and very delicious."

"You mean elves are still living today?" I asked, instantly interested.

"A few. Only a small city of them. They'll be here for a long time to come, but their race is a dying one. In fact, I shouldn't be talking about them." The old man chuckled.

"I see." I said, disappointed. I had hoped maybe he'd explain how elves and house-elves were related, exactly. But I wouldn't ask him to reveal the secrets of the race. Instead I took a sip of the drink. It was surprisingly good. The old man must have noticed my surprised, pleased expression, because he smiled.

"It's good, isn't it?" he said.

"Yes, very good." I agreed. "It's like. . ." but I couldn't exactly say what it was like. It was like drinking winter, or moonlight.

"Merry Christmas, my good lad." The man said, laughing.

"Thank you," I replied, smiling at him. To my vast surprise, I began to relax, not minding that I was enjoying a rare drink with a complete stranger, even in these dangerous times. If he killed me, then at least I wouldn't be alone anymore. And at least I was in a somewhat comfortable place with seemingly enjoyable company.

"I don't mean to pry, but I'm just wondering why a young man such as yourself isn't at home with his family. Tonight is Christmas Eve after all." the man said, breaking my thoughts.

"I'm not that young." I said.

"But surely you have a family." the man said confidently.

"I'm afraid not." I replied somewhat sadly. If only he knew why. . . But I had no intention of telling him. Werewolves weren't generally accepted in the world. Not even among wizards.

"Come now, there must be someone out there you call family." The old man pressed.

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning at the man.

"Who was it you were thinking of when old Butterbur interrupted you?" He asked.

"What makes you think I was thinking about anyone?" I inquired suspiciously. The man simply smiled.

"I could see it in your face. You were clearly thinking about someone far away." He explained. "Who was it?"

"A friend." I admitted.

"A close one, I'd imagine." The man guessed, and correctly.

"The only one." I said quietly. It was true. The Order members, they were nice, but none of them really knew me like Sirius. Not even Albus. James had, but he was gone too. And Peter. . . who knew about him anymore. Sirius was the last. The only.

"Then there's your family. That's what I was talking about. This is the most treasured night of the year, and you should be at home. Why are you here?" the man said triumphantly.

"Oh, he's gone. My friend." I replied.

"What happened to him?" The man wanted to know.

"He. . . died." I looked down into the swirling silver of my drink, remembering that night at the Department of Mysteries. I would never forget what happened. I saw him fall, then I stopped Harry from diving after him. I stopped myself from diving after him. I might have been able to save him, but I didn't. I looked up, suddenly realizing the man was watching me closely.

"It _wasn't_ your fault, you know." He said gently.

"What?" I questioned, wondering how he knew what I was thinking.

"You couldn't have saved him from falling without endangering yourself or young Mr. Potter." the man said.

"How did you know?" I demanded. "How did you know what happened?"

"I see many things, my good lad. I have been around on this world for a very long time. I know a great many things, and I know that you are truly innocent." The man said in a low voice.

"What are you talking about?" I asked in shock.

"What would you give to have him back with you?" the man asked suddenly. I studied his face. His blue eyes were intense. He was serious.

"Sirius was the only one who understood me. I would give anything to have him back." I replied finally. The man studied me a moment more.

"Think about this, would you really do anything to get him back?" he asked. I frowned at him.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked. The man's face broke out into a grin.

"Finish your drink. I think I understand." He said. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Lupin."

"Merry Christmas." I replied, wondering what was going on. He was still watching me, so I picked up my glass and drained it. I closed my eyes, savoring the almost mystical taste. When I opened them, the old man was gone.

"Hey, mate, you know you still have to pay for that even if you don't drink it." Butterbur said. I whirled around and stared at him.

"Pay for what?" I asked.

"I'm not stupid. Your drink is right there in front of you. You haven't touched it, I don't think." The bartender said. I looked. Sure enough, there before me sat the whiskey I'd started with.

"But the old man, with the Elquestria. . ." I murmured. Butterbur was looking at me impatiently. Still puzzling, I reached into my pocket and pulled out some money, and shoved it at him, who grabbed it. I took a sip of the drink and wondered what was going on. At that moment, the door opened, letting cold air, snow, and a little boy into the pub. I watched the little boy with some interest as he looked around. His face brightened when he saw me nad he dashed over.

"Mister!" He said. "There's a man outside. He's lost and can't get home."

"Why are you all by yourself? Where's your parents?" I asked, looking around. The boy looked up at me.

"Will you please come with me?" The boy asked longingly. I looked down at him. His face was pleading, and as he reached up to brush his blond hair from his face, I noticed his eyes. They were blue. A very bright blue. In fact, they were very familiar indeed.

"All right." I said, standing up. I pulled on my cloak and followed the little boy to the door. He pushed it open, and I could see lone man standing beneath a lantern, hunched over against the snow. His long black hair fell into his face, but I knew him instantly.

"Sirius." I whispered. I began walking over. "Sirius!" He looked up. He looked better than he had since he'd come out of Azkaban. He looked almost like his old self again. His confused face cleared when he saw me.

"Remus!" He said gladly. We embraced.

"I thought you were dead." I said.

"So did I." Sirius replied. "I've seen Time, Remus. A thousand years in an hour. It was terrifying and amazing, and then suddenly a man appeared and he told me I could go home. The next thing I knew, I was here."

"It was the old man." I said, smiling. He had granted my wish.

"What?" Sirius frowned, looking at me.

"I'll explain later. But first, where's that boy? I want to thank him. . ." I said, looking around. Sirius looked too, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. The only sign that he had been here was a set of footprints that came out the door and started across the snow, right next to mine. They stopped suddenly, and they were gone.

"I guess he ran off." Sirius said, though that was impossible.

"I guess so." I agreed reluctantly. "Come. Let's go home."

"Not to Grimmauld, I hope. I've seen the first house ever built, and it looks like a golden, shining palace compared to Gimmauld." Sirius said.

"We can always go to my place." I offered.

"You still live in that place your father built?" Sirius asked. I nodded.

"Are our treasures still hidden in that tree in the back?" He asked. I stared at him.

"I don't know! I forgot all about that. Let's go find out." I said.

"I'll race you to Honeydukes. Best Floo in Hogsmeade!" Sirius said.

"What are you, twelve?" I teased. Sirius laughed.

"No, I just feel so. . . alive." He said, holding out his arms for emphasis. He gave me a sly grin. "You're just afraid you'll lose."

"To you? Never! You know you can't resist stopping to look in the full length mirror in Lady O'Ryan's Formalwear." I replied. We took off down the street as if we were children again. He pulled ahead, but I quickly caught up with him.

"Sirius. . . I'm glad you're back." I said, then smiled at him before sprinting off and into Hogsmeade.

"CHEATER!" Sirius shouted, and for the first time since last June, I laughed. Life was again as it should be. Somewhere, wherever he was, I thanked the old man. Thanks to him, it was indeed a Very Merry Christmas.

_Then he looked for the child_

_But the child wasn't there_

_Just the wind and the snow_

_Waltzing dreams in the air_

_And the cynics will say _

_That some neighborhood kid_

_Waltzed in on some bums_

_In the world where hid_

_But they weren't there_

_So the couldn't see_

_By an old neon star_

_On that night, Christmas Eve_

_And the Snow, it was falling_

_The neon was calling_

_And in case you should wonder_

_In case you should care_

_Why we're on our own_

_Never went home_

_On that night of all nights_

_We were already there_

_Finis_

AN: Yup. That's it. Goooo me. It's just a sweet story with me bringing Sirius back to life and other stuff.

Shoutout to my Minibrit. As we always say HE LIVES!

Next up? Draco/Ginny mini: Same Auld Lang Syne. It'll be up within the next week or so, depending on my mood. I got a wacom pad and have been drawing like crazy. :)


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